Getting Cut Hurts

When was the last time you wanted to cry? Does it correspond to the last time you went to the hairdresser? Generally here, I associate the two hand in hand. Literally, it tends to be a very painful experience for me. I must be tenderheaded. I've only had my hair cut at a salon twice since I have lived here...but, it has been an experience both times. I'm sorry, I love Turkey, but I just don't love getting my hair cut here. I never told you about my last experience either, so I'll elaborate because going to the hairdresser here, well, it's an experience. I'm never quite satisfied, but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. I'm confessing, split ends happen. Eventually, they just do. There have been several conferences that I've been to and been able to have someone from home cut my hair, but it's been awhile and I needed a trim today.
Each time I've been to the hairdresser here, my roommate can attest to the fact that I have come home and had to do a little maintenance. I think they just have wills of steel and they know what your hair wants more than you know what you want. But, who cares what you think my hair wants, I am the one paying! I practiced and asked several friends how to ask for a 'trim'. 'I only want you to trim the split ends of my hair'. Just like that, I said it. Maybe even a bit more dramatic. I made hand gestures. It just hasn't been what has happened both times. The combing after the wash is just too painful. I almost cried. We might have been able to stop there because quite a bit of hair probably got pulled out from that process. Then after I motioned the tiny bit I wanted trimmed off, we went to town. But once that initial cut is made, all you can do is say, 'yeter'! Enough! No more than that! The bangs that I have been growing out since August (that is when I got my last Turkish haircut), are present and accounted for once again.
After the cut, the pain continued. They blow your hair dry which takes about 45 minutes, even though there are 4 people blowing it dry. Yes, four. I am glad my hair did not catch fire. (It took three to cut it. One holding the comb, one cutting, and one hovering.) If I had been pleased with the cut and wasn't quite so tenderheaded, I think I'd feel like a rockstar and love it. Strand by strand is carefully blown straight. Then chunks of hair are wrapped around wire brushes that are left on your head (sometimes 5 at a time, honest) while they wait for the curl to 'set'. These aforementioned five brushes get heavy at some point and I probably start to look chagrinned and finally have to share that my hair will just not hold curl dry. It just won't, we have to stop trying. As if living in a fishbowl is not enough, going to the hairdresser with anything naturally lighter than, well, black hair, calls for some looks and questions as to whether this is really, no is it really, your natural hair. I think it had just already been a long day and well sometimes you just get tired of being stared at. I'm always an oddity. 365 days a year, I'm different. Despite my best efforts to fit in, I'm different...they know it. Sometimes I forget, sometimes I can't, and every now and then I just rock it. But, today I just didn't want my hair petted. At one point, the girl, yes did stare at my hair longingly and pet it several times. I know its a compliment, but I'm just not a cat. I was a bit uncomfortable. I think it also had to do with the fact that minutes before, she had shared with me that I should let her get ahold of my eyebrows because they're in need... maybe that had a little to do with it. I'll take care of the eyebrows at home, thankyou. That is a painful story in itself involving something like dental floss and a dance motion that the girl performed while tweezing my eyebrows. I cried for that, too. Now, I know I'm an emotional girl, but pain is pain! Maybe I have been a bit harsh. I feel a bit emotional after coming home and sitting in front of the mirror trimming the trim. Maybe you live here and you have had tremendous experiences. Power to you my friend. I am happy for you, maybe even jealous. My friend Chris has an excellent relationship with his barber. I wish that I could have the same with my hairdresser(s), but alas, it's not going to be possible. I don't have it in me, and my hair just grows too slow. But, if you ever need to feel like a rock star, the hairdresser is the place to do it!

Another Darling, Another Day

I spent my second Valentine's Day here in Turkey last week, which began the second round of holidays that I'll celebrate here. I can't believe how fast time flies. I knew it would, but I can still remember last year like it was, well not last year. I saw my (now just) friend, (but used to be language helper) on Valentine's night and she said that she guessed we were darlings again. We refer to it as 'Darlings' Day' here. Yes, I guess we were darlings again this year. It got me thinking how much our friendship has changed since last year. She stayed with us last year for Valentine's at Katie's house because Craig was out of town. I actually have a year old friendship. It really was already a friendship then. We bonded almost immediately as I was the only single gal around back then. But, it was just neat--I know I reflect alot, that's the kind of girl I am, here I go--to think about the past year. The language, the relationships, the changes in me and around me.
She's joined us in a study lately that some of us ladies are doing which has been really encouraging, and last week we were reading about Hagar together. When she fled from Sarah because she was being treated harshly. An angel of the LORD found her in the wilderness and asked, 'where have you come from and where are you going?'. Now, don't we just know the LORD knows all and certainly had the power to send any message to her...but obviously this was a question worth pondering. So, I've been pondering it. Where have I come from and where am I going? Certainly being reminded by my friend that our friendship has been through a year of ups and downs of my first year living in Turkey, made me think about where I've come from and where I'm going in the next 8 months here and where I'm going in life (period). I have planted my heart and soul here the past year and it's bearing fruit, in me and around me, all glory due to Him and not me. I'm not saying that I'm packing up and moving on at all. It's not time for that yet. My, 'such a time as this' is still very much in motion here in this place. But, I am saying that I'm taking a look at where I've come from and the view makes me appreciate all the more where I am. And I'm taking a look at where I'm going and making sure that is where He wants me to go. That very same encounter, Hagar gave God a name. She named Him, the God who sees--El Roi. He sees where we've been, where we're coming from and certainly He sees where we're going. The question is for our benefit.

Pictures from an American Tourister...

Last week, I had a visit from one of my best friends in America...Heather! Heather was about as ready to meet Turkey as Turkey was to meet her! She made friends with all my friends and by the end of the week, I had to remind them that I was here first and I loved them first! To say they enjoyed meeting her would be an understatement! We had alot of fun as I did my best to show her a little bit what my life is like. I made her bus all over town and eat LOTS of Turkish food! I felt vindicated when we got on the most crowded bus I've ridden since I've been here. The first time we rode the bus, I told her, 'if we get separated, i'll find you...and HOLD ON'. After we got on the bus, she calmly informed me that public transportation is crazier in Boston than here. No, no, i thought. I felt a twinge of joy when we saw the most crowded 142 (this bus has a whole blog post devoted to her) I've seen since free bus ride day pulled up on her last night in my city. Now, she'll see. We squeezed ourselves on the bus and every stop for about the 1st ten minutes, the bus driver had to yell that he was opening the door because heather's backside was pressed up to it, (so he didn't take off a foot or anything when he opened the door)! It finally calmed down, but I thought, 'yes, this is what my Turkish life is like'... She handled the bus like a pro, but as far as communicating went, she had a hard time because she loves to talk and that is a little hard to do without a few Turkish lessons! But she was using the three words she knew by the end of the week like they were going out of style. I was proud!
She even took me on an adventure. We ventured deep into the heart of downtown in a mini- bus with a friend and our waiter from dinner the night before who wanted and insisted on helping the foreigner find just that right souvenir she was looking for at the right price. We took a friend so we didn't get swindled or lost, but really Turks are just like that. They are so hospitable. Ask for directions and you'll probably end up getting an escort to where you're going. She got a taste of all kinds of hospitality during the week. I was so glad to have a week with her. Thank you to all of you who helped get her here and sent love with her!
we always check our shoes at the door, but we have to find something stylish to keep our feet warm...this is Turkish tradition. Not so much the style as the slippers themselves. The stylish part is my rule. No one wears shoes inside a house. I make sure I wear cute socks in winter time and paint my toenails come summer!
Jayme sent some cards for our friends from America and they were just so excited to hear from her. Their faces are for you J. They were so tickled to be remembered and get a little hello from a faraway friend!This little guy is on the door of one of our bathrooms (came with the apartment mind you, we did not place it there). Every now and then, you just need a laugh walking down the hallway!
Everyone always gets a kick out of the Turks' love for ketchup and mayonnaise on their pizza. When it comes to Little Caesar's though; we have to draw the line! We forbid the use of ketchup and mayonnaise there!
My little learners were eager to have a guest...they're always eager for an excuse for a party, usually a guest equals no worksheet and an extra game or two!

The Hilton and biggest mosque in our city on the horizon.

All in a Day's Work

So, that incredibly ugly face is due to the picture above. See culprit. All in a day's work, smoking ourselves out of our kitchen. Doesn't seem like much looking in the pot, but it was enough to provoke that face out of me. We spent the entire day going through our daily activities while trying to nurse a pot of Turkish red beans and rice. Finally, when our day ended about 9:30 tonight, yes that's right, we sat down to enjoy our Emeril recipe. Take that. We can do Emeril in Turkey! Okay, so after almost setting our kitchen on fire, we can do it...It was pretty tasty, especially thanks to our sausages I smuggled in from Cyprus and held hostage in our freezer for the past 4 months! Our neighbors didn't come a-knocking, so I guess the coast is clear. I've been settling back into routine with relationships since I got back from vacation. It's been nice, and I'm already looking forward to a visit from home this weekend! Heather is coming my way! That is the most exciting thing since the power went out this week and my roommate got stuck in the elevator. I'm not downplaying heather, it was pretty exciting, I have to admit. You just never know, always have candles on hand in Turkey. For the power to go off a few times in one night for no reason, well, it's not that unusual. But, I can't wait to see my friend and introduce her to my world!!! I honestly didn't think I'd get a visit from anyone but my parents (because I just knew they would be on the first flight over here nomatter and they were--so great), so it's the most fabulous surprise!

I had to run a few errands to get ready for her coming, one of which took us outside our little village this week. So, while we were at it, we ventured out to Incirlik to the base for Chinese food. This is what semi-have lived in Turkey for this long-okay Chinese food does to us once every 6 months...

I know the picture of me looks like I'm in the twilight zone... but, really it's quite fitting. It's kind of like going to the twilight zone when we go to the base. It's this weird colliding of cultures. There are Americans around, but the base is barricaded with barbed wire around it and you know there's a Taco Bell inside, but you just can't quite get to it and they can. We are Americans who have embraced the Turkish culture that we live in and they are... well, just usually not. We live in a Turkish world and if we don't see our teammates can go a whole day without seeing a single other American. We speak Turkish, we eat Turkish, we try to act Turkish. They live and breathe American in Turkey. It's just a different life than I lead. Then, all the Turks speak English, and they not only speak English, they speak slang English and it's just weird. I'm not used to it and I want to speak to them in slang Turkish! You go to a Chinese restaurant where everyone working there-- but the cook (he is Chinese, how he got to Turkey, who knows?) is Turkish and you talk to the waiter in a strange mix of Turkish and English. It's just weird and a little bit fabulous at the same time because it is the subculture that exists. But the sweet and sour chicken is delicious and it just makes the hour mini bus ride out there worth the (roughly) 90 cents you paid to get there in the stinky mini bus--no literally, it was stinky. Like, I said, we don't do it often, but it was worth it this week.